Luke Eve

Being a mentor is a pretty sweet gig, as long as you don't care about the children whose lives rest in your hands.

You get the mansion in the Victor Village, the adoration of the public, the free meals, therapy and massages, and as many Avoxes as you ask for. For a minute there, I was almost happy; what a wonderful life I'm going to have, I thought. My luck is beginning to turn. And then a tiny slip of paper destroyed everything I've ever worked for.

Pawl has to die, that's unavoidable. Everyone has to die, of course, except for Laciel. But Pawl is the only one I have direct control over. I will send him no sponsor gifts; I will give him terrible advice; I will kill him all on my own. However, the other tributes pose a distinct threat; I will do my best to ruin their chances from behind the cameras, but in the end my entire world will rest on Laciel's shoulders.

As I walk briskly down the hall, my head down in thought, I feel a sharp pain in my left shoulder. I spin to my left to see who bumped into me so painfully. Whoever it was, they clearly did it intentionally – they would have to be blind not to have seen me.

"Watch where you're going!" I snap, in no mood at all to be dealing with this.

"Would if I could," the perpetrator responds calmly, his strange eyes seeming to rest on nothing.

Oh, shit.

"Weston! I, uh… I didn't know it was… didn't realize it was… you… I mean, because you're… you know…"

"Muscular?"

"Uh… what?" I ask, thoroughly flustered.

"You didn't realize how hard it was for me to squeeze past someone in a hallway, because of my muscles?"

"Um…"

"What, were you gonna say something different? It's because I'm… what?"

"Well… you know…"

"No, I don't know. What are you talking about?"

"Just… I mean… you're…" My voice cracks as I try to find an inoffensive way to talk to Weston, the blind mentor. I let my voice trail off as a smile cuts across his face.

"Got ya," he says happily, clapping me on the shoulder. I flinch, my face burning red in embarrassment. "Gotta learn to lighten up, buddy, or you're never gonna get through these Games."

His easygoing manner immediately puts me at ease, and I'm struck by the stark contrast between the man before me and the man I met last year, before my own Games. The Weston I remember was a moody, sullen mentor who spent half the day talking to himself and the other half swinging from anger to sadness in less time than it takes to count to three, like some kind of self-destructive pendulum.

"You're… different," I tell him in surprise, not unkindly. "What happened?"

"I was drowning myself," he says simply. "And Monk saved me."

Monk – I know that, more than anything else, she certainly messed him up. She was a selfish, lazy, terrified little girl who needed Weston's guidance just as much as he needed her eyes. They complemented each other, I suppose, but I never understood the effect that Monk had on Weston even in death; it was as though she never left him, as though she was still standing beside him, battering him with her endless nagging and complaining.

Which, of course, is ridiculous and quite impossible.

"Lucky for you," I mumble.

"Ah, but you're Lucky Luke. Whatever fortune I've had you're sure to get ten-fold." Weston's smile is contagious, and I feel my spirits lifting even as I turn to the therapy office.

"I'm not sure the Gamemakers agree with you," I tell him. "Or else I don't know why they're sending me to the headshrinker."

"You too, huh? I guess insanity is catching." To my amazement, Weston opens the door for me and follows me into the office.

"Oh!" a bumbling, balding, middle-aged man jumps up from his armchair and nervously shakes both of our hands. "I didn't expect you two to come in at the same time… I thought I would have a moment to… explain the situation…"

The situation? I glance at Weston, but his eyes are of course staring intently at nothing.

"See, I, um… I thought it would be helpful to have a… a joint session… seeing as you have… similar issues, and it might… help you two reach your breakthroughs faster if you have… well, a fellow sufferer, as it were…"

"So, like… group therapy?" Weston asks slowly.

"Sure, that's… that's one term for it."

"Sure," Weston says happily with a shrug.

I nod my assent to the strange little man before me, who beams up at us.

"Right, then. I'm Dr. Sansky, and I've been the main therapist for victors for the last thirty years."

No wonder the victors are so messed up.

Dr. Sansky leads both of us to our own armchairs before he repositions himself in his.

"I thought we could begin by telling each other our feelings. We can talk about how you feel now, how you felt in the Games, how you felt before the Games… whatever you'd like. Use the 'I' statement. So, I felt blank, when blank. Weston, why don't you go first?"

"Yeah, I'm not gonna do that," Weston says simply.

"…Oh. Well, alright." Dr. Sansky tries to hide his disappointment as he reaches for a stack of large cards. "Then I suppose we can move on to the Rorschach Inkblot Test. Do you boys know what this is?" I shake my head. "Well, I'm going to hold up each of these cards. They all have a different inkblot on them, and you're going to tell me what you see in each of them. There's no right or wrong answer, so just tell me the first thing you think of when you see them."

Weston remains motionless, and I wonder at how the Gamemakers failed to mention to Dr. Sansky that his patient was blind. But Weston seems content to simply go along with this new turn of events, so I keep my mouth shut. Weston lifts his head at the sound of the good doctor clearing his throat.

"What do you see, Weston?"

"In that picture?"

"Yes."

"I see a man's genitalia."

The room is completely silent. I turn my head and bite down on my fist to hold in my laughter. Dr. Sansky's eyes grow wide in astonishment; he bites down on his lower lip and scribbles something onto a pad of paper.

"What an… unusual reaction," he mumbles before holding up a new picture. "What about this one?"

"Well, that looks like your genitalia, Dr. Sansky."

"Excuse me?"

"Where are you getting these pictures? Did you photograph yourself? Because I don't think it's entirely appropriate for you to be showing me these kinds of pictures."

"I can assure you these are not–"

"I'm starting to feel very uncomfortable with your attention, Dr. If you're coming on to me…"

"Absolutely not! I'm simply–"

"Don't worry, I'm not angry. I just would have worn more attractive attire to our session if I had known, that's all."

"That is absolutely not what's happening! Not in a million years, Mr. Shepp!"

"Oh. Well, now you've hurt my feelings."

"Let's just… let's just move on to the next picture, how about that?" Dr. Sansky takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down before holding up a new inkblot. "What do you see, Weston?"

"I see absolutely nothing."

"Excuse me?"

"I don't see anything. Anything at all."

"Well, how is that possible?"

"I would assume it has something to do with the fact that I'm blind, but I'm not the therapist, so I can't say for sure."

"You're telling me… that you're blind?" Angry red splotches begin to appear on Dr. Sansky's neck, and I wonder if he's going to kick us out.

"Yes, I'm blind. Are you deaf?"

"…Let's just move on to Luke, shall we? Luke, what do you see in this picture?"

He holds up an inkblot that seems to dance before my eyes. Hunter's bleeding body stares at me, crying out for help. The red liquid pools around my feet. Aleta screams.

"I see a field of flowers."

"What about this one?"

Daryl bleeding out, Marilynn sobbing over his body as she begs him to stay with her. The light draining from my best friend's eyes and the useless feeling that overcomes me as he dies on my television.

"A puppy."

"And this?"

Before I can answer, someone bursts in the door.

"Sorry!" the young peacekeeper says quickly, his wild eyes turning on Weston and I. "We need you in the training room. Your tributes are waiting for you."

Weston jumps up, thrilled to be ending this idiotic session. "Thank you for all your help, Doctor. This little chat has been very enlightening. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

I nod in agreement and follow Weston out the door; the minute it slams behind us we burst out laughing.

"I can't believe you messed with him like that!" I manage to choke out through my laughter.

"They're all idiots, every last one of these Capitol people. If you don't mess around with them, they'll bore you to death."

"Excuse me?" the peacekeeper asks awkwardly. "If you could just follow me to the training room…"

"Of course," I grunt, containing my laughter enough to follow the man down the hall.

Jango, 17

My stomach growls as I enter the cafeteria for breakfast; I haven't eaten anything since yesterday morning.

I fill my tray with as much food as it can hold and survey the tables before me. When I spot my angel from across the room, I make a beeline for her booth.

"Hey," I say loudly, sliding in across from her. "I didn't know you'd be here."

"You didn't know I'd be eating breakfast?" she mumbles, giving me a look that doesn't exactly portray a message of love.

"I'm just saying it's a coincidence that we're both sitting at the same table," I continue, digging into my scrambled eggs.

"I saw you looking for me, Jango. You followed me and then sat down across from me."

"Well, no… no, that's not… just a happy coincidence, that's all."

"Okay, Jango."

There's a loud buzzer, and all tributes are called to the training room. Madelyn watches in disgust as I stuff several pancakes into my coat pockets.

"For later," I explain. This is how I survived after my parents kicked me out; waste not, want not.

She shakes her head and heads off to the training room, me tailing close behind her.

Daniel, 17

I stand in the training room, completely unsure of where to go. What would help me most in the arena? I'm still contemplating this question when Abe silently appears at my side. I flinch; she's like a ghost.

"Where are you heading?" I ask her.

She points to the camouflage station and raises her eyebrows questioningly.

"Good a place to start as any," I answer with a shrug of my shoulders.

To get to the camouflage station, we have to pass the pool. Madelyn is pleading with Jango, begging him to take just quick dip. I don't blame her – he smells like a sewer. But apparently Jango can't swim. Katerina, the sexiest tribute by far, struts by the pool, catching my eye as she does so. A sly smile crosses her face and she walks up to me.

"Hey, big boy," she says seductively. "I hope you're about to take your shirt off and jump in that pool."

I duck my head sheepishly, feeling a blush creep into my face. She's a beautiful girl and I feel self-conscious around her, despite the fact that it's blatantly obvious to me what's going on: Katerina thinks she's irresistible, and now she's flirting with me in the hopes of manipulating me. I saw the reapings; I know she has a boyfriend back home. Perhaps she thinks I'm dense, or easily swayed by woman. Or maybe she's just overestimating herself. In any case, I feel no need to get on her bad side; and after all, it could be good to have her think I'm under her spell.

"I bet a pretty girl like you could get any guy in this room to take his shirt off," I say, putting on my best shy face.

Katerina gives me a flirtatious wink before turning to Abe. "I'm parched. Go get me some water."

Abe stares at Katerina with her mouth slightly open in shock. I squint my eyes in confusion, trying to understand what prompted this. It's easy enough for me to figure out, but before I can mend the situation Abe reaches into the water with cupped hands and carries out a sizable amount of liquid, which she promptly pours onto Katerina's shirt.

"What the hell?" Katerina screams at Abe.

"She's not an Avox," I explain.

Katerina stares at Abe for a moment, her eyes filled with fury, before she decides to play it cool. "Oh. Well, how's anyone supposed to know if she never talks?"

"It's okay," I say with a shrug. "It's an easy mistake."

It's not until the words are out of my mouth that I realize how they must sound to Abe. Abe stares at me with murderous eyes before grabbing a small arm float from a diving board and squeezing it angrily with her hands, desperately trying to distract herself from a conversation that's obviously upsetting her.

"She didn't have to make such a big deal about it," Katerina tells me with a roll of her eyes.

I can tell Abe doesn't enjoy the way Katerina is talking about her as if she isn't here, but I maintain my belief that it's best not to get on the bad side of any Career, so I silently decide not to stick up for Abe.

"So, anyway," Katerina begins, changing the subject. "What do you think you'll be wearing for the chariot rides? Something to show off your muscles, probably?"

She gives me a flirtatious smile, and I return it quickly. "I'm more interested in what you'll be wearing," I tell her.

As if to remind us that she's still here, Abe squeezes the arm float so hard it explodes with a loud pop.

"I have no idea what those idiot Capitol designers are going to stick me in," Katerina continues as if Abe had never made a peep. "I'm going to freak out if they put me in something ugly."

"You'd look good in anything," I say quietly, momentarily mesmerized by her beauty. I don't mean to fill my voice with such lust but I get lost in her body and my physical attraction to Katerina is obvious to everyone.

That's when Abe does the very thing that made her stand out during the reapings: she spits. The perfect little projectile lands directly in Katerina's hair and Abe storms past Katerina.

"Abe, wait!" I shout, but she ignores me.

Unfortunately, Katerina is closer to Abe. "So you want to play that game, huh?" Katerina hisses, grabbing Abe's arm and yanking her closer. While Katerina is tall, Abe is short, and Katerina easily overpowers the younger girl. With a malicious smile and a shove, Katerina sends Abe flying into the pool.

"Catch you later, handsome." Katerina winks at me and strolls off.

No one in the training room even turns their head; they must assume the splash was simply someone jumping into the pool. Abe's head breaks through the surface of the water, and by the way she struggles I get the feeling she can't swim. I reach my hand down and help her out of the water; she immediately attempts to charge after Katerina, eager to fight. Grabbing Abe around the stomach, I hold her back.

"Abe, no!" I hiss. "If the peacekeepers see you fighting, they'll punish you!" She kicks and wriggles around in an attempt to escape my hold. "Abe, please!"

Finally, all of the fight goes out of here. She goes limp in my arms, defeated.

"I'm going to let you go," I say slowly. "But only if you promise not to go after Katerina."

She nods solemnly and I release her. Abe stands before me, dripping wet and utterly defeated; I grab a towel from the pool supply shelf and wrap it around her. The other tributes are beginning to stare, clearly wondering why she would have jumped into the pool fully clothed. I can almost see the anger boiling inside Abe, and she begins to shake in pure fury. Knowing she's only a few seconds away from tackling someone, I put my arm around her shoulder and guide her into the nearest men's bathroom.

"Abe," I say sternly, pulling her in front of the sinks. "You can't fight before the Games."

She kicks the wall in angry defiance to me, and the sound echoes against the tiles.

"She only pushed you in because you spit on her, Abe! Why were you mad at her anyway? Because she called you an Avox?"

Abe turns her head away from me, refusing to admit what upset her in the first place.

"Abe, come on. Was it because we were ignoring you? I didn't… I was just trying to get on Katerina's good side. She's a Career. I don't want her to have a grudge against us in the arena."

Abe watches me speak to her in the mirror, but her face remains impassive. I think back, trying to calculate the exact moment that set her off. I had just spoken something to Katerina… You'd look good in anything.

"…Was it because we were flirting?" I ask quietly. Abe shakes her head vehemently, hugging the towel tighter to herself. This self-protective action gives her away, and I understand that it was the flirting that upset her - but why? Was she angry that I would flirt with a girl who had called her an Avox? …Or was she jealous?

Just then, Avenaye comes bursting through the door.

"Oh!" he says in surprise. "I, uh… didn't know you guys were…" He clears his throat awkwardly.

"She fell in the pool," I half-lie. "She's just drying off."

"Okay, well I need to go the bathroom, so I'll just be a minute." He walks up to a urinal.

"Avenaye! Can you wait two minutes?"

"I really have to go, bro."

"Can you use another bathroom?"

"I don't think I'm gonna make it, dude. Don't worry, I'll be out of your hair in a minute."

Abe turns to me in horror as an audible stream of liquid hits the urinal. I hold the bridge of my nose and wait for Avenaye to finish. But instead he starts talking.

"Did you catch the game last night?" he asks casually as he continues to pee.

"For crying out loud," I murmur.

Finally, Avenaye finishes up. "Okay, catch you guys later!" he calls jovially over his shoulder as he walks out of the bathroom without washing his hands.

I raise my eyebrows at Abe, and that's when I notice her body shaking in laughter. She emits no sound, but the joy on her face is enough for me. I can't help but laugh with her.

"Are your clothes almost dry?" I ask as we calm down.

She shakes her head and opens the towel; her clothes are still completely soaked, still dripping water all over the floor.

"Let's go to the laundry room. I'm sure the Avoxes will give you new training clothes."

We duck out of the bathroom and leave training early, but luckily no one seems to notice. I follow the signs in the hallway to the laundry room, which is huge and buzzing with activity.

"Where can we get new clothes?" I ask the closest Avox. She stares at me before making a confusing gesture with her hands. "New clothes?" I ask again, but it's no use. She simply repeats the same gesture.

Abe steps in front of me, and her own hands fly into a flurry of motion. The Avox smiles brightly at my mute friend, and they appear to have an entire conversation with their hands. I watch, completely lost, until Abe heads off to the opposite end of the room, where she does the same thing with another Avox, who smiles and hands her a new set of clothes. Abe disappears into a back room and I wait awkwardly among the Avoxes. I stand for what feels like forever as the mute servants bustle about around me until Abe finally emerges from the other room in completely dry clothes. Only her hair remains wet.

"Abe," I say quietly, pushing her closer to the wall for a more private conversation. "What were you doing with the Avoxes? Was that sign language?"

Abe's eyes watch me in fear and she tries to shove past me to escape. I vaguely understand that she's worried I'll turn her in for communicating with the Avoxes.

"No, Abe, I'm not going to hurt you." I place myself next to her against the wall so that she no longer feels trapped or threatened. "Were you using sign language?" Her eyes watch me wildly, and I can tell she's still terrified. "Abe, that's brilliant. Can you teach me?"

Now she raises her face and watches me with wary confusion.

"You can't be writing me notes every time you need to say something in the arena. If you could teach me sign language, it might end up saving our lives." I lean in closer to her and whisper the next part in her ear. "Plus, none of the other tributes would be able to understand us. We could communicate right in front of them and they wouldn't understand a word we were saying, Abe. Do you know how helpful that would be in the arena?"

Abe analyzes my face for any trickery or lies, but seems to find none. She makes a 'follow me' signal and takes off down the hallway.

Iskandar, 18

I glance around the cafeteria at lunchtime and try to find the Career table. When I finally do, I groan at how far the walk is.

"Hey, everybody," I say cheerily as I slide in next to Avenaye. Across from us sit Katerina and Tammy. I need to establish myself as someone useful as soon as possible. "So, I got a lot of intense training in, what about you guys?"

"You went to the camping section and took a nap in one of the tents," Tammy accuses.

Damn her!

"Well, I look like a lot of other people here. You're probably thinking of someone else."

"No. It was you."

I wince, trying to think of a way to cover up my laziness.

"I was testing out the tents," I mumble half-heartedly.

"I'm sure Candy was just brushing up on his camping skills," Avenaye says through a mouthful of chicken.

"Candy?" I ask.

"Iskandar… Kandar… Kand… Kandy…"

"Why do you have to shorten my name at all?"

"It just saves time, Candy."

"Actually," Tammy muses. "I think you could make the argument that it wastes time. Considering how you had to spell it out for everyone…"

"I suppose you're right, Dancing Monkey."

"What?"

"You seem hell-bent on impressing everybody. Always showing off your skills, just like a dancing monkey, Dancing Monkey."

"But that's longer than my actual name!"

"It makes it easier for everyone to remember who you are. There are just too many tributes. It's nothing personal."

"Stop being idiots," Katerina snaps at us.

"Okey-dokey, Kit Kat."

"That is not my name. Do not call me that."

"What about Caterpillar? Or Kat-tastrophe?"

"Shut up. Right now."

"You're the boss."

I glance around, hoping more than anything that no one witnessed this less than intimidating Career conversation.

Bidzill, 17

Most of the tributes are morally inept and lack any sort of work ethic. The only two who haven't bothered me thus far are Madelyn and Abe, the two quietest tributes. Their silence speaks of stoicism, and therefore I don't mind them. When choosing where to sit in the cafeteria, however, I eliminate Madelyn as she's sitting across from Jango and I don't think I'll be able to eat without gagging at his smell.

So I choose to sit near Abe, who is sitting across from Daniel. When I approach their booth I find them leaning intensely over a thick book that appears to have come from the library below the training room.

"Can I sit here?" I grunt, disliking the act of asking for permission.

"Of course," Daniel says, smiling much too happily for my liking. "I'm Daniel, and this is Abe. You're Bidzill, right?"

I nod and slide into the booth next to Daniel. As I do so, Abe snaps the book closed and slides it secretively onto the seat next to her.

"Hi!" A cheery little girl sits next to Abe. "I'm Desdemona!"

Abe silently stares at the girl with wide eyes and an expressionless face. It's unnerving, to say the least.

"Bidzill," I grunt.

"And I'm Daniel, and this is Abe." Daniel offers Desdemona a friendly smile.

"What are you reading?" Desdemona asks curiously, reaching for Abe's book. Without a moment's hesitation, Abe shoves the tiny girl right out of the booth; Desdemona falls to the floor in surprise.

"Abe!" Daniel reprimands. Abe simply shrugs. "Desdemona, I'm really sorry, she's just got a… temper."

At the word 'temper,' Abe snatches her book and angrily stalks out of the cafeteria, but not before shoving Daniel's drink off the table and spilling it in his lap. I laugh as Daniel and Desdemona deal with the aftermath of Abe's fury: Daniel desperately trying to wipe off his clothes with a napkin and Desdemona rubbing her sore rear as she takes a seat once more.

"Why does she keep getting mad at me?" Daniel sighs in annoyance.

"Are you kidding me?" I ask, astounded by his stupidity. "A, no one likes it when you apologize for them. If they don't apologize, it means they don't want to. B, you blamed it on her temper, and apparently she thought Desdemona deserved it."

Daniel looks at me in amazement. "You really understand people, don't you?" he asks slowly.

"People are simple." I hand him my own napkin, which he takes gratefully.

"You'll certainly be intimidating in the arena."

"Hmm," I grunt. What I don't tell him is that, in my humble opinion, he won't last five minutes in the arena.

Dara, 12

At lunch, I sit with Osmium. As he stealthily pops pills into his mouth, I try to decide on the best way to poison him.

It would be easy enough to put something toxic in some marijuana and wait for him to snort it, but I cringe at the mess powder might create. If you're going to poison someone, you don't want even the slightest trace of the stuff left behind after the dirty deed is done. So I guess, theoretically, I'd want to put something in a pill; that way, his stomach acids would destroy the evidence for me, and there'd be nothing left to point to me.

But what, exactly, would I put in the pills? And then there's the tricky part – getting it in the pills in the first place. Perhaps I should find a needle, and simply wait for him to shoot something into his veins. That seems the easiest route, though some complications might arise if –

"You take more pills than my grandfather," Niels says good-naturedly to Osmium.

"I… I mean… it's my medicine," Osmium retorts, hastily devouring the remainder of his pills.

"You sure need a lot of medicine…" Laciel murmurs.

"Oh, so you think I'm on something?" Osmium shouts wildly, his red-shot eyes bulging.

Niels, Laciel, and I lean away from Osmium. He suddenly begins to pant; he tosses another couple of pills into his mouth before glaring at the three of us and scampering out of the cafeteria, anxiously glancing from side to side as he does so, as if afraid someone is after him.

Shortly after Osmium leaves, Elisa takes his place at the table. She sets to work cleaning up the mess Osmium left; throwing away the empty pill containers, throwing out the used napkins, wiping down the table. Eventually, she deems it clean enough to place her tray upon, and when she does I see that all of her foods are perfectly proportioned and none of them are touching. I'm tempted to spill her peas over into her rice, just to see what she'll do.

June, 17

After lunch, I immediately take up a post by the camping station, hoping to find a quiet place to better hear the arguing voices in my head. But soon enough Remi, Alise, Haley, and Harper are all crowding around the station, testing their abilities to pitch tents and start fires. Thinking now is as good a time as any, I try to pick out an ally. Eventually I decide on Remi, the quietest tribute before me.

"Hey, Remi," I say quietly as his tent collapses before him. I pick up one end and hold it up for him as he tries to reassemble it. "You seem like a smart guy. What are your plans for the arena?"

He glances up at me disinterestedly. "Haven't decided yet," he says calmly.

Good. Get him in alliance. He's quiet, and he won't bother you.

No! You can do better than that. Mess with his head and leave.

"Well, I just wanted to let you know that I heard Harper and Haley talking. I couldn't make out exactly what they were saying, but I caught something along the lines of Remi… Too strong… kill… bloodbath… I don't know what any of it means, but I just figured you'd want to know."

Remi raises his head and stares at me, clearly a little shaken. I give a little wave and head off to the plant identifying station. As I do so, I immediately regret what I've done; there's no way I'm going to get allies this way. And now that Remi is off the table, I honestly can't think of a single tribute who wouldn't annoy the hell out of me in the arena.

Excellent! He'll be so afraid of those girls he won't be able to think straight!"

At least the voice in my head is happy.